A Trip to Egypt was Perfect
by CelestinaJaneGWarlock
Summary: She almost got Harry killed. She was a terrible person. The best thing to do get as far away from him as possible. These were the thoughts of an eleven year old Ginny.


**Author's Note: No one more than I is surprised to have written a Ginny (and somewhat HxG) fic. **

**Disclaimer: I don't Harry Potter, but everyone knows who really did anyway.**

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The Burrow.

Settled in the middle of a vast field in Ottery St. Catchpole, it stood, although most might say that it will not be the case for much longer. Despite years of its existence and its very questionable state, the Burrow withstood the harshest of thunderstorms, the most brutal of winds and the cruelest heat. What kept it standing (although not erect) was the love and care that one family has given it, the memories that kept the Burrow full of strength, the laughter that has touched its weakened, wooden walls, and the cheers that the Weasleys have---

"GIVE IT BACK!"

"I DON'T HAVE IT!"

"STOP LYING!"

"_WHY_ ARE YOU ALWAYS BLAMING ME?"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE ALWAYS TAKING IT!"

"I DIDN'T TAKE IT! IT WAS FRED--"

"Whoa. I've got nothing to do—"

"Of course Fred _took_ it, but you _have it!_"

"_I_ didn't take it. It was _George_ that took it—"

"Are you bringing me into this now?"

"GIVE IT BACK!"

"I. DON'T. HAVE I—"

"_Will_ the four of you _please_ stop screaming?"

"Back in your room, Percy."

"Well, _excuse me_ I just happen to be studying for my N.E.W.—

"_We know!_"

"RON!"

"I DON'T HAVE IT!"

"WILL _ALL _OF YOU PLEASE _SHUT UP_!"

And as if a storm had vanished in a moment, the Burrow fell silent. The eyes of all the Weasley children who all stood on different floors of the house went down to the bottom step of the staircase where a fuming Mrs. Weasley glared up at all of them. She had her hands at her waist. This was never a good sign.

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley said exasperated, after what seemed like an eternity of anger flowing among all of them. Ron gulped and cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed, "please return Ginny's book."

"But I _don't_ have it!"

"_See!_" Ginny said, pointing at Ron.

"Did you hear what I said?" Ron yelled at her.

"But told you to—"

"I _know_," Mrs. Weasley said, raising her voice so that it boomed althroughout the house, "I know that you have it Ron. Saw it when I was in your room to drop off laundry this morning."

Ron looked down at her, dumbfounded. Mrs. Weasley raised her eyebrows. "Go on. Return it already. Only heaven knows why you keep taking that thing, but it's not yours so give it back to your sister."

Ron looked from his mother to the floor in front of him. He grimaced when he saw Ginny the triumphant expression on Ginny's face.

"Well," Percy said, "now that this ridiculousness is over, I think I'll go back to doing more important things."

"Say, Percy, what did N.E.W.T.s mean again?" asked Fred.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I forgot what it meant," said George, "didn't it stand for—"

"Naturally Exorbitant and Waggish Twit?" they asked together, followed by a burst of laughter.

"They're _tests_," Percy scowled, trying to keep his patience.

"Ah! They're _tests_, George!" Fred said, feigning realization. George nodded, "Sorry, Percy. We thought it was an acronym you've been using to describe yourself." They burst out laughing again.

Percy rolled his eyes and shut his door at them.

"Let him study, why don't you?" Mrs. Weasley called out at them, "De-gnome the garden. That should let the house have a spot of silence."

"It wasn't our fault," George whined, pointing a finger at Ginny, "Didn't your daughter start it all?"

"Don't _point_ at me," Ginny growled.

"Leave Ginny alone," said Mrs. Weasley, "you two and Ron do the de-gnoming. Off you go."

Ginny grinned at Fred and George before going back to glare at Ron. "Well?"

Ron lumbered up the last flight of stairs and into his room. She went up after him. Scrabbers was in his cage, looking up at Ron, as if knowing that he had been defeated. Ginny raised an eyebrow at Scabbers.

"Haven't you been feeding Scabbers?" she asked.

Ron was feeling around under his bed. "What?" he grumbled, "Yes, I feed him, mum."

Ginny rolled her eyes and stuck her hand out. "Well?"

Ron mumbled and pulled out a thin and worn-out leather book. He slapped it on her hand and lumbered out his room and down the stairs. Ginny clutched the book in her arms and headed back to her own room.

The Weird Sisters acknowledged her return, playing louder, unheard music from their poster. Ginny frowned and went over to the wall perpendicular to the Weird Sisters' poster. The picture of Gwenog Jones that she had just installed this morning had fallen. Ginny remembered that it was while hanging up Gwenog's picture did she realize that her book was missing from the desk below the wall. She had to abandon her initial task to retrieve her book. When Gwenog's picture was back on the wall, she apologized at the photograph which smiled back at her.

Ginny lay back on her bed, tired. She wondered just how long she would have to continue screaming at her brothers.

It wasn't really that she had never fought with her brothers. They themselves fought so often (especially with Percy) that it was only normal for them to have fights. Recently, however, it had just become more and more frequent. Ever since the Weasleys returned from Hogwarts for their summer holidays, her older brothers have adapted a very annoying habit of stealing her book; or rather, her diary. Ginny understood their concern for her. They had just, after all, come back from a school year where she was tricked by a cursed diary into opening the Chamber of Secrets—and the one that tricked her was Voldemort, himself. Being so, it was only natural for her brothers to keep nicking her diary, assuming that it was another dark object that had found its way into her hands.

It wasn't. The truth was the diary that she currently possessed had once been her notebook for classes, up until a few weeks ago when she decided to promote it as her new diary. Ginny pondered at first whether she was to continue having a diary, seeing as how her first diary almost, literally, murdered her. However, Ginny continued to feel the need for a diary. Because she had been spending most of her first year at Hogwarts writing in Tom Riddle's diary, she barely had time to talk to any of her housemates and make friends. She decided that her second year would be the best time to start making friends. In the meantime, while it was still the holidays, she remained friendless and would have to continue talking with someone or something in order to keep her sanity. And in the Weasley household where every day posed a new threat on tempers rising, brains exploding and the cleanliness of Fred and George's room, Ginny needed to keep her sanity any way she could.

She had chosen this one particular notebook, not only because she knew she wouldn't be able to afford a nice one without her family knowing that she had intentionally bought a journal, but also because during the times that Ginny had decided to keep Tom Riddle's diary in her dormitory instead of bringing it to class, it was this notebook that had an insight into her mind. On its margins were short thoughts and comments about her surroundings, perhaps a rare drawing here and there. The common doodles that she had scrawled on her margins where those of uncontrollable hair, a lightning-bolt scar and, on occasion, green eyes. Well, they would have been green if she drew them with green ink. And because Ginny spent most of her class time drawing and scribbling, she hardly wrote any notes at all.

By the time they had gotten back to the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley was determined to return all their attitudes back to normal, as if the Chamber of Secrets had never happened (she believed that the experience might have traumatized Ginny and opted for the option of acting normally until Ginny decides to talk about it with them). Mrs. Weasley's first action on initiating her strategy was to have a thorough cleaning of the Burrow.

Ginny had the most to throw out and the most to receive in return. Because she was the last sibling, she had no one to hand down her belongings to. As a result, it was her that had the option of choosing things to throw out. She discarded most of them, especially school books and supplies, all except for the notebook.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. Ginny hadn't added much to her new diary as of yet, but there were still a lot of things, although just tiny scribbles and doodles, that she would rather keep a secret, especially from Ron who seemed to be the surprising mastermind behind all the attempts to tear the diary away from her. Ginny assumed that Ron was still very uncomfortable with the thought of her liking his best friend and afraid of all the swooning things she's written. It wasn't bad that Ron was concerned; it only became unbearable when he had convinced Fred and George to help him steal her diary. Every day since they found out about the diary, they've been leaving traps around the house to distract her so they could knick it. Twice, she has had to take four showers to wash of the stench of whatever it was that Fred had triggered to go off when she opened her bedroom door. As another result, she stayed away from her room for days, only to find out that her diary had gone missing.

This had been their fifth attempt. Ginny had to think of a better place to hide it. She only hoped that they hadn't already read what was inside.

She raised the diary above her and flipped the pages in her hand. A couple of leaves dropped out and hit her in the face.

"Ugh," Ginny growled. She sat up to collect the pages and stick them back in the notebook. She winced at them, however. The pages that stared back at her un-nerving and awfully familiar. They seemed to be consequent pages, the same thoughts running through them. There were a few lines, followed by more that were crossed or scribbled over with more ink marks. They were lines in what was an attempted poem. Ginny squinted at the lines she had left un-erased. It was almost impossible for her to read. She remembered to be scribbling madly at the time she wrote this. Stringing together the lines she had left, they formed the verse:

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard._

_I wish he was mine, he's really divine,_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord._

Ginny grimaced. It had almost been six months since she had seen her singing valentine for Harry.

Harry.

"_I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"_ Malfoy had called out after her before she had entered her classroom that day, embarrassed. It was then all those emotions following that did Ginny eventually found herself in the Chamber of Secrets, dying. She also managed to get Harry into danger when he decided to rescue her which led him straight to his encounter with Tom Riddle.

"_Haven't I taught you _anything? _What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself_ if you can't see where it keeps its brain?"

Because of those words, Ginny had felt extreme guilt after being extracted from the Chamber. She had almost killed herself and Harry. And Ginny didn't think that, if Harry had died, she would be able to live with the guilt.

She had, however, told herself that with Harry being Harry, he might not have even cared so much that his own life was in trouble versus finding out more about the Dark Lord and himself. She had found this out when she would over her him, Ron and Hermione talking of nothing but Harry's conversation with Dumbledore. Those, and their exams. It then seemed that Ginny had now been lost from Harry's mind, as if rescuing her from the Chamber was just bonus, and as if her confession of liking him had never happened. With all things considered though, Ginny was happy at the notion of him forgetting her embarrassing composition.

She continued to stare at the words she had written.

Had she really believed that confessing to Harry about her feelings would change anything? Even if Ginny had confessed and he responded positively instead of being embarrassed and annoyed at the strange cupid that delivered it to him, what did Ginny really have to offer the Boy Who Lived? Ginny was poor and could offer no material gifts. Their home was nothing but chaos so perhaps a home was out of the question as well. Ginny, for a long time, fought with herself, arguing that she wasn't even fit to announce her existence to Harry. After all, there was Hermione, who Harry had chosen personally to befriend and, generally, Hermione was leagues better than she.

While Ginny had inherited no intelligence like Charlie or Percy, Hermione was the smartest witch of the second year and perhaps even of the entire school. While Ginny had fiery red hair, Harry already had Ron, so in contrast, Hermione was a nice change from the shock of red (and attitude) that Ron offered. Hermione as well was very nice and offered anyone that needed her help a hand. There were even a few times during the beginning of the year that Hermione had offered to help Ginny out with her schoolwork. It wasn't until Hermione had started disappearing into the library that she had stopped giving Ginny help, and of course, when Hermione had turned up petrified. Ginny then realized that it was also her own fault that Hermione had been petrified. She had, after all, been the one to call out the basilisk to terrorize the school.

In short, Ginny was a terrible person. What could she have given Harry in return?

Ginny had then concluded that her actions and her feelings were juvenile; that the best thing to do at that point was just forget about Harry and move on with her life. She continued to do so and even studied on her own for her exams without anyone's help. In the last few weeks of school, although renewed with conviction, Ginny still did not succeed in making any new friends, and kept to herself still. She promised herself that she would keep a cheery disposition, however, especially when Harry was around.

The last time she had spoken to Harry, or rather, had been in the same room as him was on the train back to King's Cross. But though she tried, she couldn't even look Harry in the eye. Although she kept a cheery front, the truth was she was still reeling from the after effects of her confession.

After they had returned to the Burrow and after Mrs. Weasley had ordered them to clean their rooms, Ginny had simply lain in bed and contemplated all her decisions. After a period of contemplating, she began to imagine what the next year would be like for her and for Harry.

No doubt, they would be avoiding one another. Harry would be avoiding Ginny because it was awkward to think of her confession. Either that, or he just simply wouldn't care about her. After all, Ginny wasn't in his life at all before the Chamber incidents, and because that encounter was over, there was nothing else to share between them. They knew nothing about each other, no matter how much Ginny would like to pretend that she did because of her association via Ron. And Ginny would avoid Harry because there simply wasn't any way that she could approach him without anyone she knew thinking about the reasons for her actions. Of course they would suspect that the reason she was attempting to talk to Harry was because she liked him. But because it would partially be the truth, Ginny wouldn't be able to deny it. So the obvious choice would be to go back to being strangers. It would be as if the Chamber of Secrets had never been opened.

Even if Ginny could muster up the courage to decide to re-establish a connection with Harry, she knew even now that she would back out at the last minute. She had been that way since the time she had started to like Harry, much more so during the previous summer when Harry had first stayed at the Burrow. It would be the same way. Ginny would run at the sight of Harry. She would only be able to feign closeness in her imagination. Even if Ginny would find some new friends the next year, she was sure that she would only be doing so to escape admitting that she still wanted to be close to Harry. The company of new people might to her good, but it could also just be so that when the time came that her control was too weak to keep away from Harry, her friends would just distract her and drag her back to how they should be, apart.

But at the same time, the thought was impossible to entertain: that she and Harry would be apart. There just seemed to be too much, things too powerful that were linking them together. Ron was one of them, the Chamber—if it continues to be alive between them—would be another, and something else. Ginny knew that Harry did not feel it, but she did. There was very little rational explanation for such a connection. After all, she had only been with Harry a handful of times, barely had a proper conversation with him apart from the one they had when she awoke in the Chamber. And yet, she couldn't shake off the thought of him. Something about Harry connected Ginny to him. It was as if there was a string that Ginny felt tied her to Harry, but she didn't know where, how or why. As corny as it might have seemed, there seemed to be some _magic_ between them.

She was giving herself an excuse to continue liking Harry, some way of granting herself permission to keep her-self connected to him. Ginny knew she might only be putting herself up for more disappointment.

Ginny bit her lip. She still liked Harry. Even at this point, without even putting her foot forward and away from Harry, she knew that whatever she did, she would still continue to do so; a lot now and a lot more in the future. She had to get away from Harry, even if the chances of her truly moving on weren't high.

The paper crushed in Ginny's hand and her eyes narrowed. She had to decide now. Ginny shut her eyes and shuffled thoughts and faces in her head. One stood out in her head. She cocked her head to the side.

"Was he a Ravenclaw?" she asked herself. "What was his name?" She looked at Gwenog Jones who was looking at her smugly, and then she looked at the Weird Sisters that seemed to be cheering for her, raising their instruments in the air.

"Corner?" she thought out loud. "I guess he's okay," she spoke to the Sisters, "he offered me his feather in Charms class when we were trying out the Levitating Spell."

She stuffed the paper back in and shut the diary. Ginny looked up, thoughtfully, and asked, "Doesn't he also have dark hair?"

"GINNY!" she heard her mother. There were footsteps thundering toward her room. Her bedroom door swung open.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley cried. Percy entered the room, annoyed, behind her. Mrs. Weasley strode excitedly over to the window and opened it. She yelled.

"Boys!" she cried, "Boys! George, stop torturing that poor thing, just fling it! Oh, but boys!"

"Mum, what is it?" Percy asked. He clearly thought this was wasting his time.

"Your father!" she shouted to reach everyone in the house and outside, "he's won the _Daily Prophet_ Grand Price Galleon Draw!"

Although she couldn't see, Ginny knew the jaws of her three brothers downstairs have also dropped.

"We're going to Egypt!"

There was a cheer from down stairs. Ginny smiled. Percy scowled, "Egypt? Mother, I've got to study—"

"Ooh, let's celebrate!" cried Mrs. Weasley, "Ginny, come! Let's make some dinner!"

Mrs. Weasley strode out of the room. Percy stomped out behind her.

Ginny shrugged and shoved the diary under her own bed. She stood up, held up her chin and left her room, smiling.

A trip to Egypt was perfect.

She wouldn't be able to move on, but she certainly had to move away. For Harry's sake if not hers.

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End file.
